


Of Angles and Rhymes

by slash4femme



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: F/M, First Time, M/M, inward pondering about sexuality and norms, some internalized homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1375924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slash4femme/pseuds/slash4femme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>six stage of coming to realize what you really want from life</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Angles and Rhymes

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in August 2009
> 
> written for the prompt 'the sixth time' for the group [](http://24-times.livejournal.com/profile)[ **24_times**](http://24-times.livejournal.com/) . All of the stories written for [](http://24-times.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://24-times.livejournal.com/) **24_times**   will have titles taken from the song _Love's Lines, Angles and Rhyme_ s. 

I.

It really did take Charlie too long to realize what he wanted. Well actually he figured out what he wanted eventually, acting on it, well acting on it had taken even longer. Looking back on it there were in fact six distinct incidence, or stages, of realization, any one of which should have lead to action, only one of which actually had.

Charlie spent far too many years thinking he wanted to be just like Don. Charlie’s nothing like Don and he’s glad of that about eighty percent of the time. Charlie didn’t want to be like anyone else, per say, although for most of his life he’d rather fancied that he’d like to be a little more normal. Or at least a little less, well, abnormal. When he was in college for the first time at age thirteen he would have given just about anything to be like the other students in the classes he took, some of which where a full decade older then him. At the time it had been an unattainable dream and he’d suffered through being the freak kid, with a large nose, braces, and unruly curls, who could do math, but apparently very little else. As he’d gotten older he’d learned to fake it better, not because he was ever normal, he knew that, but because learning to blend in, learning to dress like the other guys, like the things that other guys liked was important, was safe, was being wanted.

Which of course on an intellectual level he knew was stupid.

He was important, his work was important, and he was as safe as could reasonably be expected for someone who seemed to spend an increasingly large amount of time working for the FBI. He was also wanted, not by a lot of people, he knew that, but he had a supportive loving family and a few friends. So being normal shouldn’t still be so important, but of course it was. Charlie also knew that buying into the status quo however much work it happened to be for him, was always easier then going against it. To do that Charlie would need a very good reason. Charlie was also beginning to think he might have a very good reason.

 

II.

Charlie taps his fingers lightly against the chalkboard careful not to smug any of his equations and wonders why the answer has been alluding him for so long, really, it isn’t something he’s used to.  

“Charlie?”

He glanced up at Don standing at in the doorway. “Dad says dinners going to be done in about fifteen minutes.” Don holds out a beer to him and Charlie takes it, takes a sip eyes still on his equations.

“This your new project?” Don scans the chalkboard but is wise enough not to try and touch.

“Yeah.” Charlie takes another sip. “The answers though are eluding me for some reason.” He frowns a little ‘eluding’ not a word he would ordinarily use, but it had just slipped out, Larry, now Larry could and did use words like that all the time. The combination, of those two observations was slightly troubling. 

“I’m sure it’ll come.” Don slaps him on the back as he turns towards the door and the rest of the house. Charlie tries not to sway slightly under his brother’s hand. It’s a good manly gesture, Charlie has tried to pick up but it has always felt wrong coming from him, but then Don on the other hand had always been one of the guys. Charlie’s sighs softly to himself looking down at the beer in his hands and realizes he’s gotten little chalky fingerprints on the glass.

That night lying in bed, Charlie brakes down the problem inside his head, hoping that if he somehow manages to make it more like numbers it will make more sense. The problem is not being like one of the guys. The problem is Charlie has never been normal, never been one of the guys. The problem is that learning to fake it, even poorly had required him to simply ignore all the parts of himself that did not fit the equation, did not fit the norm. Except of course that only worked to an extent. He couldn’t ignore, math, he couldn’t ignore his own mind, he couldn’t ignore that he was short, awkward and had no people skills worth talking about. He couldn’t ignore who he was attracted to. So where does that leave him with? Charlie pulls a pillow over his head and presses until he’s lightheaded. It leaves him in denial, in all sorts of ways, and he is almost thirty. He pulls the pillow away. He can’t do this forever, and he’s beginning to think he really doesn’t want to.

 

III.

He’s watching Amita talk over their shared lunch, not really listening, just watching. He likes Amita; she’s smart, capable, and sweet, a good person, a good friend. She’s also beautiful, with long dark hair, flawless face, dark eyes. All in all everything a woman should be. She is attracted to him, maybe even loves him and with her he could have a life, a good life. He wonders why he doesn’t want that. There is Amita and there was Susan, he just . . . he doesn’t want that. It’s been years of playing pretend, of doing what he thought was the normal thing do and he doesn’t want it anymore. What he really wants is for Amita to be his friend and his colleague, and he wonders if she’ll be alright with that, watches her smile at him from across the table and thinks she probably won’t.

When he gets back to campus he finds Larry balanced on a chair, trying to hang a paper airplane on a string from his light fixture. Larry is dressed in a yellow button up shirt with green fish on it, and Charlie’s pretty sure the plane has something to do with higher levels of physics. Charlie pauses at the door, watching Larry balance precariously on the chair, arms over his head, eyes fixed on a goal he’s really not tall enough to reach. He’s focused so intently that when Charlie clears his throat Larry makes a soft high noise and almost falls off the chair. Charlie rushes forward to catch Larry by the arm, steadying him as Larry wobbles on the edge, and Larry places one hand on Charlie’s shoulder and smile down at him.

“Thank you Charles. I seem to have found myself in an expected position.”

Charlie feels his mouth go dry and tries to think of anything besides how right Larry is about that, anything besides the feel of Larry’s hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting. Larry pulls away sitting down on the chair, putting the plane on his desk and Charlie rubs his forehead feeling suddenly tired, and wonders why nothing in life can be easy. 

 

IV.

He hadn’t woken up one morning and realized he wanted his best friend, instead of a beautiful woman who might of actually wanted him back. It had just sort of happened, he isn’t even sure when or how. Just sometime between spending all his free time with Larry and realizing that as much as he liked them, women just weren’t as exciting to him as they where supposed to be, he’s come to realize that he wants Larry. Deeply, passionately, and that in itself can’t be normal because Larry, is intense, brilliant, kind, gentle, and above all endlessly fascinating, but he isn’t traditionally good looking, or what could be called traditionally desirable and he is a good twenty years older then Charlie. These are all facts, real and quantifiable that his brain agrees should matter and neither is body nor his heart seems to care about at all. 

Actually he’s known for a while, his need to be close to Larry, to work with Larry even when Larry’s own work doesn’t really interest him, even when his work doesn’t actually need Larry’s input is a good hint. He can’t ignore forever the way his heart speeds up when Larry touches him, the way he himself has always gone out of his way to touch Larry. The first time he’d ever dreamed of Larry’s body against his, the way it would feel to kiss Larry, well that had been a dead give away really.

He’s been stupid and pushed it away, not wanting to deal with it and what it meant. Is he gay is he bisexual? What does it say about him that he fines Larry so very attractive but not the beautiful young women in his life? What will this do to their relationship, a friendship Charlie at least has cherished for well over a decade? All these questions coupled with his ever present anxiety around the idea of attraction and dating in general have kept him from even thinking of the possibility that Larry might, just might be attainable. And that is the thing isn’t it; there is no good reason for Larry to reciprocation Charlie’s feelings. After all they have known each other for so many years, and Larry is a good deal older then Charlie and the only people Charlie can remember Larry paying any kind of attention to, even if it was in the vague way Larry did everything, are all beautiful women like Megan. Charlie is neither beautiful, nor is he female, he is brilliant, and he gets along with Larry better then anyone but although this seems to be enough for Charlie, it very well might not be enough for Larry. Still, Larry is a remarkably gentle person. If Larry did reject him they might still be able to be friends.

Charlie groans and lets his head fall against his desk. It is an impossible situation, but it isn’t going to go away, and he needs to do something, he can’t just keep living like this, keep ignoring what he wants. A life that includes math, and Lawrence Fleinhardt, and not slapping people on the back, and calling them ‘pal’. He can’t expect to get it all in one go, he knows that, but he wants to at least know he is taking a step in that direction. Sometimes with affairs of the heart common sense gets thrown right out the window. Larry had said that.

 

V.  

His goal is a simple one, just to let go. With that in mind he throws himself into his work, both is own projects and for Don. He puts together a new journal article he feels better about then anything he’s done in a while. He also spends more time with Larry, intentionally. He helps Larry pick out an apartment then helps Larry paint it. He ups the number of lunches they eat together from twice a week to four, invites Larry over more. It’s not really that unusual, they’ve been pretty much inseparable for the last fifteen years or so but there is an intentionality to it now. He listens to Larry, pays specific attention to what Larry likes, what Larry thinks, what Larry might need. He touches Larry too, he always has actually but know it’s intentional in away it never has been before. Both him and Larry are very tactile people, because while Larry doesn’t touch he does always talk with his hands, gesturing, touching his own face, tapping things, playing with things. Charlie on the other hand has always been very touchy. Not with everyone, in fact with people he isn’t close to, he doesn’t like touching at all, but with his brother, father and Larry, he will often put a hand on an arm, or shoulder. He has always hugged Larry, touched Larry’s hands while they talked, let their shoulders or knees brush when they sit together. Now when he does it though, he lets his hand linger a little longer, sits a little closer. Not enough to make Larry feel uncomfortable, but just as attentive as he always thought he should have been with the women he dated. Surprisingly it helps, it doesn’t solve anything, but it helps.

 

VI.

“Charles?”

They’ve had a nice dinner and Charlie is feeling a little sleepy and rather contented and Larry has parked his car in the driveway of Charlie’s house and is gazing out of the windshield.

“Yes Larry?” Charlie smiles at Larry’s profile but Larry is frowning slightly.

“There are some things that have been happening over the last few weeks which by themselves might be anomalous but taken together . . .” Larry trails off and Charlie waits for him to continue beginning to frown himself. Finally Larry purses his lips and steeples his fingers together in front of him lightly tapping the steering wheel. “If I were younger, or if you where not, well, yourself, but instead someone else, or if our situations had been in anyway different, this pattern would make more sense, but still.”  Larry stops again this time with that small crease between his eyes Charlie knows means he’s thinking hard and Charlie begins to have a bad feeling about this conversation.

“Charles.” Larry turns to him finally meeting his eyes squarely and Charlie realizes with a shock he doesn’t know what Larry’s feeling, which is unusual to say the least because Larry is usually quite expressive and bad at hiding things. “Are you flirting with me?”

Charlie sits there and opens and closes his mouth a couple times. Mostly because no he hadn’t been flirting given that he doesn’t actually know how to flirt. He’d been attentive yes, hoping that in some ways Larry might return his feelings. He suddenly realizes his hands are clenched into fists in his lap and his palms are sweaty. He was always bad at this, and with Larry, well it means more now. He closes his eyes briefly and then turns to face Larry and takes a breath.

“And what hypothetically speaking, if I were?” He takes another breath. “Flirting with you.” He belatedly clarifies and waits. Larry actually seams to be thinking about it, chin resting on his still entwined fingers staring at nothing over Charlie’s left shoulder and Charlie tries very hard not to fidget.

“I suppose.” Larry says after a minute his voice sounding odd, like nothing Charlie’s ever heard from Larry before. “I would ask if you are sure, because I am not . . .” Larry makes a vague gesture in the air and Charlie lets his breath out.

“Yes, Larry, I’m sure.”

Larry opens his mouth again and then closes it and Charlie realizes dizzily that he might have just accomplished the impossible and rendered Larry speechless at something less grand then the mysteries of the cosmos. He also realizes he can’t deal with this; he can’t sit here and wait for what he’s already waited far too long for in the first place. Dimly he’s aware of moving and dimly he’s aware of Larry, very close in the dark in the car, and then he’s out of the car and walking towards the house but not going in, instead going to the garage. Everything is how he left it, equations and chalkboards and he stands their staring at it all in the dark wondering why for the first time in his life it doesn’t make sense. Behind him he hears a soft noise.

“Charles”

Larry is standing in the open door of the garage hands in his the pockets of his jeans looking, well, looking almost frightened. “Whatever you think we are doing.” Larry starts. “Whatever you think I might feel, or want. I promise you I never intended to act on it . . .” And Charlie’s hand comes down hard against the top of the table a can of pencils bouncing out of place by the force of it.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen Larry, I didn’t wake up one morning and decide to be attracted to men. I didn’t suddenly decide to fall in love with you, I . . .” They both stop realizing they’ve been talking at the same time and have no idea what the other one has been saying. Charlie stares at Larry, tries to put the pieces of Larry’s half of the discussion together, trying not to be distracted by the shadows at Larry’s throat and the way his brown jacket makes him look almost handsome and completely desirable.

“Yes well your existential crisis aside” Larry starts taking his hands out of his pockets and crossing them over his chest, and Charlie’s mind finally catches up with the conversation.

“You want this.” Larry looks up at him startled and yes that is definitely fear and maybe guilt on Larry’s face. Charlie takes a step forward. “You want me.”

Larry holds up a hand as if to ward him off, but Charlie isn’t about to be forestalled, not this late in the game. He takes several quick steps across the garage and then he’s kissing Larry. It’s not a deep or really demanding kiss. Rather chaste but when he pulls back Larry is looking at him with an expression that Charlie has no trouble reading and Charlie wants to laugh because he evidently really can be that stupid and clueless sometimes. Larry makes a small noise and his hand comes up to cup the back of Charlie neck pulling him down. Then they are kissing again and there is nothing chaste about this kiss. It’s hot, wet, messy and Charlie’s sure it’s just about perfect and suddenly breathing become very optional. Which of course it isn’t because eventually they both have to pull away. Charlie’s hands are on Larry’s waist and Larry’s hands are tangle in the curls at the back of Charlie’s neck and the way Larry’s looking at him makes Charlie thinks he could die right now a very, very happy man. Except of course dying right now would mean possibly missing sex with Larry, which is looking more and more like an actual possibility, and Charlie suddenly remembers his father, probably asleep up stares and sighs.

“What?” Larry tilts his head to the side almost smiling and Charlie can’t help but smile too.

“My father.”

“Ah yes.” Larry looks up as if somehow able to see through the wall and several stories of house. “Well.” He takes a step closer to Charlie and Charlie almost holds his breath. “I myself do have a very nice, functional apartment.”  Then Larry does smile tiny lines crinkling around his eyes. “Newly painted even.” Charlie laughs at that, and kisses him pulling back regretfully before they start something he doesn’t want to finish in the garage.

“Ok, your place then.”  They walk back to the car holding hands and Charlie tips his head to the side as if considering. “Larry?”

Larry lets go of Charlie’s hand to dig in his pockets for his car keys “Yes Charles?”

“Promise me you’ll tell me, how, why . . .” He searches for a moment for words he’s never been good at using. “About when you knew.” 

Larry only looks at him as he unlocks the car suddenly serious and then nods soberly. “One day, if you like, although I can not guarantee you’ll like the story much.” 

Charlie ponders that for a few minutes while he gets into the car and Larry starts it up. Then Larry’s hand slides across to Charlie’s own hand squeezing quickly before putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the driveway, and Charlie decides he’ll think about it later. He also promises himself that he’ll never slap anyone else on the back, or call them ‘pal’, or ‘buddy’ unless it’s a matter of national security. Because normalcy is highly over rated, as is being one of the guys. Charlie thinks he might like just being Charlie a hell of a lot better anyway.          


End file.
